Buckets of Sand
by Enchantable
Summary: Set after 2x03. Morgana's magic, Merlin's secret and the power that binds them together.


**God, okay, I couldn't resist doing this. Morgana is so freakin awesome in the show and Merlin is just beyond cute. I like Gwen and Arthur but now that Merlin and Morgana have this secret? Its just beyond cool. And their chemistry is kick ass.**

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Sometimes Merlin wishes he could fly.

He wishes he could fly away from Camelot and the secrets and a world that if they knew would hate him for what he is. Its usually after he saves Arthur or does something that he shouldn't be able to do at all or watches another person who is related to him only by the magic in their veins be executed. Sometimes its after he meets with the Dragon who he thinks flies away to end their conversations just to throw it in his face that he, Merlin, a sorcerer, can't. But mostly he wants to do it when he feels lonely, something he feels quite often. Especially when its quiet and he doesn't have a crisis to avert, a world and a Prince to save. Its when his destiny is something in the back of his mind instead of thrown down his throat. Those times are bad enough to almost make him sneak a sleeping draught if he wasn't so sure Arthur'd find a way to get himself in even more trouble than usual. But now he is not alone in his secrecy, not now that Morgana has found what she is.

She's the first person he ever really wants to tell.

Oh the thought's crossed his mind, with Arthur, with Gwen, with the few friends he has but its nothing more than a passing fancy really. But not with her, with her he wants to shout out that he's more than just some serving boy. He wants to tell her that the Druids have written about him, that many _many_ people have written about him. He wants to tell her that he's saved Arthur and Camelot more times than he can count. That he's done it all with the magic that still half terrifies her.

He feels incredibly foolish for the desire, but consoles himself with the knowledge that shouting your best attributes is a desire Morgana evokes in a good deal of men. Especially when her eyes lock with yours, even just for a moment, even just out of the corner of her eye. You want to scream and shout and get her to not give that little half smile to every other man who catches her fancy. Merlin feels silly for wanting the same thing as the Noble suitors Uther parades in front of her, but he feels it none the less. Because he realizes that this might actually get her to stop, more than trophys or battles, because this is something that no other person has. Not in Camelot at least.

He wants to show her the book Giaus gave him and teach her the spells his tongue still sometimes struggles to pronounce. She knows other languages, she's been taught them and he thinks she'll probably be worlds better at sounding out the strange things he stays up half the night to figure out, half terrified that they'll come out wrong and he'll blow something to hell. But she doesn't have a lot of patience and he imagines that she'll probably run into her own struggles when it comes to the words. She'll probably also hog the book. She is, after all, very used to getting her own way, even if he's the more trained of the two of them.

The fact they share this secret only makes it harder. Arthur tells him to stay away but Morgana refuses to listen to anyone, especially Arthur and summons him constantly. Arthur and Giaus have their patience severely tested with what they have dubbed his 'love affair'. He says nothing, letting them have their assumptions as he stands in Morgana's room with a bucket of sand to throw on flames or water or whatever she creates that day. He makes sure the room--and the palace for that matter--is only singed, not burned to the ground. But like a muscle being stretched and worked, her gift grows. His has been natural, instinctive and hers is not but her determination is astounding and she forces herself to do what people have told her she should not.

He helps as he can, with the sand and the silence. But he helps other ways, ways she does not know. He rearranges letters of books she reads, the ancient words calling out to her hidden among the page. He smuggles spells and words to her, so secretive that even she does not fully understand that they are not the magic calling to her but a friend who is standing beside her. If he did not need the book, he knows he would give it to her. But he does. Because Giaus still needs his chores, the Dragon still calls constantly and Arthur still gets himself into an ungodly amount of trouble that Merlin has to figure out a way to get him out of without letting the world know what he is.

And that is what reveals his secret.

Its another assassination attempt, one Morgana's dreams don't predict and one that no-one is aware of. He discovers it moments before it happens. But this time there isn't one sorcerer standing there, hidden among the courtiers, there are two. Unfortunately even though there are two, there is only one who is aware of that. He turns to kill the assassin, to hide his eyes as they glow when he _feels_ the crackle of her power. He feels it rush and it is like nothing he's ever felt before. He's felt her power of course but its been when she's in control, except for one time when she was so excited and happy she made the flowers Gwen brought her grow incredibly large. Now though, fear courses through her and instinct takes hold and he knows with desperate certainty that she is going to use magic. She's going to use it to save herself, to save Arthur but she will use it and it will destroy them all.

She's trained herself well but he is instinctual. She still needs words for control. He sees her lips part and he acts as fast as he ever has. He doesn't need words to make a knife that's fallen on the ground slam into the assassin's back and floor him. Doesn't need words for the man who dropped the knife to flirt with the lady sitting next to him to stand up and gain fame and glory for destroying an assassin and saving the Prince. He is Merlin and he doesn't need words to save the day.

Doesn't need words to make his eyes glow either.

Their eyes meet across the room and though he knows his are normal, he knows she's seen. Its strange how when one looks for things, they find them. She's looking for the glow of eyes, for the whisper of power and though his is anything but a whisper, she finds him. He sees the shock on her face as she stares at him. He's been there the whole time, bumbling Merlin who has the heart of a lion but the rest of him, the rest of him is far more lamb like. Merlin who calls Arthur a prat to his face and stands with buckets of sand which he tosses on the fires she accidentally starts. Merlin is a mage. More than that, he's a powerful mage. There is nothing alien about his movements, about his magic, as if it is no more difficult than breathing for him. Morgana stares and Merlin stares and neither moves as the hall dissolves into chaos.

In a flash of silk she's gone, ushered out for safety's sake and he's running over to Arthur, his eyes searching for any sort of other threat. But there is none, at least none outside the castle. However, there is one inside. All the while afterwords, listening to Uther's furious shouts and demands to know if magic was involved as Arthur stands there with the look in his eyes he only gets when something like this happens, Merlin's mind is somewhere else. Somewhere terrible, somewhere wondering if Morgana isn't going to shout that there's another mage in Camelot and simultaneously feeling guilty for thinking such a thing of her. So after the night has quieted, after people have all gone to bed, he sneaks out. He's become very adept at sneaking, especially sneaking into Morgana's room, though he hates himself for the skill. But he uses it now and sneaks out, sneaks to her room. Gwen answers the door, her face etched with worry.

"Now's not a good time, Merlin," she says.

"Please," he hears his voice far away, "it will only take a moment," Gwen shifts, obviously about to say no but Merlin knows the desperation is plain on his face, "please," he repeats.

"Just for a moment," Gwen says stepping aside.

Merlin steps in as Gwen makes herself scarce. He finds Morgana almost instantly. She is sitting on her bed, her eyes watching the fire. She doesn't look as he walks in, doesn't acknowledge his presence and though he knows it shouldn't, Merlin finds it hurts just the same. He lowers his eyes as he walks in, trying not to feel too guilty or at least not let the guilt show on his face. He comes to where she is sitting and stands next to the chair, waiting for her to say something. She does not. Eventually he relents, he obeys and he speaks.

"I couldn't tell you," he says, his voice soft and guilty.

"I think I knew," she says, "you weren't in my dreams. Arthur, Gwen--even Uther's been in them. But not you," her fingers tighten on the edge of the bed, "and you were never afraid of my magic. Or Mordred even. I thought it was strange for a servant," she mused aloud, "but you're not just a servant."

"I am a servant," Merlin says.

"But that's not all you are," she says, head flying up to meet his, the accusation heavy in her voice, "why didn't you tell me? Have I not proven myself trustworthy of such a secret?"

"No--its not that--" he stumbles over his words, trying to find the right ones, "I couldn't tell you--I can't tell anyone."

"I'm not just anyone, Merlin!" she cries standing up, her eyes flashing a dangerous gold and Merlin feels his own magic roar up in defense, knows his own eyes flash the same color, "I'm like you!" she says, a note of triumph in her voice as their eyes return to normal.

Its a lie. They both know its as far from the truth as it can be. The only thing that unites them is magic and the danger it poses. She is the King's ward, she is noble and beautiful and a hundred things he will never be. He is a manservant, an easily replaceable nobody in Camelot's halls. She would be missed, he would not. Not by many. But maybe by a few. But they are still different, still united by something that never should have existed in the first place.

"My lady--" he begins, desperate to remind her of the fact.

"Don't you _dare_ start formalities with me!" she cries, sounding every bit like a Princess, "you should have told me, Merlin," she says finally and her voice sounds softer, almost sad.

"I couldn't have told you," he says, "not then. I couldn't have put you in danger--put any of you in danger."

Pain, sorrow, they all fly across her eyes and he knows she is thinking the same things he did when he realized they were all friends. Each breath they take, each opportunity for magic that comes, it is all a risk. Not just to them, the ones that wield magic, but to Giaus and Gwen and Arthur. They are all at risk, everyone they come into contact will is at risk. Because of what they are, because of what they can do. Merlin watches her and knows that she's realized it too, that by being what she is she is putting everyone they have ever met or cared about at risk.

"I didn't--" she begins before quieting, sinking onto the bed once more, "I did not think--" she shakes her head before her eyes meet his, "how do you stand it? Every time I see Arthur, every time I see Gwen I want to tell them. I feel as if this secret is going to split me open."

"I know," Merlin says and they both know he does, "but it gets easier."

"i don't know if I want the lying to get easier," she murmurs.

"Its not lying, not really. Think of it as protecting," he advises, "if they know we're in a load of trouble. We get into that enough without magic."

She smiles at that, weakly but she smiles none the less and he feels himself smile in response.

"Besides," he continues, "you did tell someone, you told me."

"You found out, it doesn't count," she says.

"Doesn't count? That's not very nice," he says, "tell you what, you can tell me again. Promise I'll act surprised."

"Do you know any memory spells?" she asks. His eyes widen and his mouth parts to object when he realizes she's smiling more widely, "I'm kidding, Merlin," she tells him.

"Oh--oh right," he stumbles, feeling extremely foolish, "I knew that."

"Can you help me?" she asks him, her eyes softening in what he is sure is a practiced gesture. Much to his shame, he feels it working, feels like he would do anything for those eyes.

"I thought I was helping you," he says, remembering those buckets of sand.

"I mean with the spells," she tells him.

"Yes, yes of course," he says.

The smile she gives this time is the most genuine one he's seen on her face. It softens her and somehow for a moment he thinks he sees who she under all the defenses she's built up. The woman he catches a glimpse of is the most beautiful creature he's ever seen, more beautiful than the woman who plays with the men at court or dines with Uther to let a young boy escape. Merlin knows it is irrational but he wishes to protect her, be it from Uther, assassins or anyone who would harm her. Its irrational because Morgana's proven herself very adept at protecting herself or convincing people she likes to protect her. Skilled warriors, not servants with the gift of magic. The thought saddens him but it grounds him and he focuses on that, on the fact that him standing in her bedchamber goes against every single code of propriety they have.

"Well I'll let you rest," he says taking a step backwards, "you can just--ah--summon me tomorrow. But not early. I think Arthur's loosing his patience with me," he knocks into a table and spins around, steadying it before anything can fall. He hears her soft laughter, "so, tomorrow," he says as he reaches the door.

"Tomorrow," Morgana promises and Merlin's confused, traitorous heart soars with the smile she gives.

He turns to go before stopping and turning around. She meets his gaze steadily, one foot raised where she was about to slip under the sheets. He looks at her, unsure what to say. He wants to tell her that he was glad she knew, that he was sorry she found out that way, that he feels so light with the secret told to someone whose not going to kill him for it that he thinks he could fly if he tried hard enough. Her eyes soften and he realizes that without saying anything, she knows what he's thinking and she feels the same. So instead he feels his own smile come back as he looks at her.

"Goodnight Morgana," he says instead.

"Goodnight Merlin," she replies.

He leaves the room, ignoring Gwen's disapproving stare and the servant's murmurings about the hero courtier who saved Prince Arthur and the King. Usually when he hears such things he wants to correct them, to say it was him who saved the day. But not tonight. Even the urge doesn't come up as he walks back to his room. Giaus says nothing except to shake his head and inform him that the leech tank needs cleaning once more. Merlin barely registers as he goes to bed, feeling as though he truly could fly if he so chose to.

And so the next day, Leech marks on his face and hands sore from doing Arthur's endless amount of chores, he arrives at Morgana's with the book tucked under his shirt. He shows it to her and her face lights up. She pronounces the spells with absolutely no trouble, her mouth forming odd syllables as Merlin looks on in fascination.

Sometime Merlin wishes he could fly.

Now he feels as though he could, but he finds he does not want to.

He's got all he needs right here.

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